


Captive Elf

by sinningintherain



Series: Tales of a Captive Elf [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Public Sex, one is a prisoner already desperate for release, the other is technically one of his captors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinningintherain/pseuds/sinningintherain
Summary: Human like making examples of captured elves. Valris just wishes they'd chosen someone else.Captured and tied to a pole in the middle of a human village, Valris is already in a shameful position without the pressure against his groin every time he moves. A human makes things worse, as they always do.
Series: Tales of a Captive Elf [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843447
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Captive Elf

**Author's Note:**

> Should you feel this is not tagged appropriately/I've omitted a tag, tell me and I'll fix it.

Valris has to hand it to humans: they know how to make knots. He’s been tied up to the pole for two days, now, and not even his superior strength has been enough to free him of the ropes. He’s bound too well.

His knees are beginning to hurt.

Valris shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position, and he bits back a moan. Of course. There’s that, too.

The humans proved to be much more resourceful than the scouts’ reports had led them to believe. A frontal assault left much more elves on the ground than them, and some of Valris’ siblings fell captive to the humans. As far as he can tell, he’s the only one in such a—suggestive position. Then again, he was the only one who tried to fight back when they were taken prisoner.

Human like making examples of captured elves. Valris just wishes they'd chosen someone else.

Another shifting, another bitten-back moan. He can’t withstand this much longer. This is torture. Sweet, painless, but torture nevertheless. He learnt early on in his captivity that constantly changing positions would only exacerbate his problems, but he can’t help himself. His knees can’t hold him up much longer, and certainly not immobile like he tried to be at first to pretend a composure he had lost as soon as the first knot was tied.

He shifts on his shins. He can’t contain the drawn-out groan the movement causes. He closes his eyes, cheeks aflame in shame and something else, something he’s been trying to deny for two days without success. He can’t keep doing this. He’ll go mad with arousal before the moon sets over the plains.

A human passes Valris on his left. Another shoots a smirk at him when he gives into temptation and shifts again, another groan falling from his lips.

Damn humans and their ingenuity.

A human–a male that seems to be a warrior, hair as black as a crow’s wing and eyes as dark as new moon night–stops just a foot from him. Valris lifts his head, expression as regal and impassive as he can make it while he’s a panting, red-cheeked wreck of the elf he was.

The warrior smirks. He’s handsome for a human, some part of Valris’ mind points out. Another takes note of the calluses on his hands and thinks about having them roving over his body, wrapping around his cock, relieving the tension he’s been drowning in since he was captured. For the most part, Valris’ mind is trying to anticipate whatever new torture lies in his future.  


Everything is derailed when the human takes hold of the sheath hanging from Valris’ waist–the empty shell of his family’s sword–and tugs.

The dummy hilt of the humans put there just for this reason drags across Valris’ groin. The elf almost shouts at the overwhelming sensation against his swollen cock. His head falls to his breast, his own harsh panting the only sounds he can hear over the loud thumping of his heart.

Humans may be laughing at him, but he can’t be sure, not when the warrior chooses the moment he’s almost calm enough to tug the sheath again.

This time, Valris does shout. A friction this long, this all-encompassing is almost too much after the barely-there drags he could manage on his own.

A third tug has his knees buckling, his torso sliding down the pole and pushing his twitching cock even more into that blessed drag.

Valris’ mind is empty.

The humans are definitely laughing now, but he couldn’t care less. All he cares about is the friction, that delicious friction after days of not-enough.

The empty sheath is tugged again, again, again, until all Valris knows is the twitching of his cock, the wonderful drag of something on his groin, the blood pumping in his veins. He’s lost all control over the sounds coming from his mouth, moans and groans and hitching breaths spilling from his lips and chasing each other amidst the humans’ laughter.

The warrior never laughs. Valris manages to angle his head so that he can look at him, but the human who’s so cruelly torturing him never laughs. His lips are drawn into a smirk, his bottomless eyes shining with something that the elf’s blissed mind can’t recognize. The human’s hands are both on the sheah, both tugging the hilt to add to Valris’—

No. One hand is on the sheath, the other—

Valris shouts when fingers close around his aching cock. The warrior is in front of him, mere inches separating them. One hand is deep inside the elf’s pants, forcefully stroking his cock.

Valris keens, tries to suppress his reactions with the last vestige of lucidity, but he’s too far gone for that.

The elf sobs when the human’s finger drag on his slit, when the human envelopes his cock in his callused hand–and it’s so much better that Valris’ mind could ever imagine, so much tighter and hard and snagging that any hand he’s ever felt–and pumps once, twice, three times.

Valris is so close, so close, he can feel the heat in his gut tightening, his balls drawing nearer to his body—

The pressure on his cock vanishes. Valris sobs at the loss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the human says, his tone confident and cocky.

The elf can’t even lift his head to see him walking away as if nothing happened.


End file.
